


A Girl Can't Wait Forever

by Songstress21 (Cantatrice18)



Category: L'Italiana in Algeri - Rossini
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Missing Scene, opera - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:11:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2525210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Songstress21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kidnapped by pirates while on a quest to find her long-lost lover, Isabella must find her way out of the Algerian Bey's harem and rescue those she cares about along the way.</p><p> </p><p>Isabella's thoughts and experiences before, during, and after the events of "L'Italiana".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This set of stories will be difficult to follow without some knowledge of Rossini's "L'Italiana in Algeri". If you are still interested in reading them, but unwilling to watch a (really amazing) opera, I suggest you read a plot summary. Google it, there are several. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_“...for once I return, I shall have acquired enough money to buy my own ship and be a Captain in my own right. Then, my darling, we shall marry and travel the world together. I think of you always, and will write again as soon as I reach Morocco. It shall not be long before I am at your side once more._  
Yours, as always,  
Lindoro” __

__I set the letter down on my writing table and stared at it pensively. Six months since I received that letter. Six months without word, and trading season nearly at an end. Other ships have made that same journey twice over in the same amount of time. Clearly disaster has befallen my Lindoro, some peril on the high seas. I refuse to believe that he is dead, for if that were the case surely my heart would have stopped beating from grief._ _

__Frustrated, I snatched up the letter and crumpled it into a ball, throwing it to the floor in disgust. Immediately regretting what I’d done, I knelt and spread the letter flat, pressing on it to remove the creases. There was a knock at the door and my maid, Stella, poked her head into the room. She seemed entirely unsurprised to see me on the floor. “Excuse me, Milady, but Messer Taddeo is here to see you.”_ _

__I sighed and rolled my eyes, but suddenly froze, an idea beginning to form in my mind. “Show Taddeo into the parlor. I’ll be down in a moment.”_ _

__Stella bobbed a curtsy and left, shutting the door behind her. I stood slowly, glancing out the window to where the slightest glimmer of blue sea could just be seen. The moment had come for action, that is, if I ever wanted to see my Lindoro again. What I needed was a ship to take me to Morocco, and an escort to guard my reputation. Taddeo, fool though he is, could serve both purposes. He is rich enough to buy us both passage aboard a comfortable merchant vessel, and would doubtless volunteer to accompany me if he thought I intended to make the journey alone. I smiled slyly as I headed towards the parlor. It was time to start doing things my way._ _


	2. The Journey

I stared out at the endless sea surrounding our ship. The waves striking the hull set up an almost hypnotic rhythm, and it was a moment before I realized I was not alone on deck. A sailor had come to join me, leaning against the rail with the casual grace that comes from a life spent at sea. He was an older man, fifty perhaps, and his broad smile showed two missing teeth on the upper right side. “Enjoying the view, Miss? We ought to reach Mallorca in just a few hours time. From there it’s only three days to Morocco.”

I returned his smile, blushing slightly. Though I had told no one of my true motives for making such a journey, several sailors had noticed how anxious I was to reach my destination. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. “Thank you for telling me. Are we stopping at Mallorca for supplies, or are—“

Just then a loud moan from behind me made me spin around. On the other side of the ship, Taddeo leaned over the rail, his face a pale shade of green. From the gurgling sounds emitting from him I could tell that he had just lost another meal to the waves. Taking pity on the man, I crossed the deck to him and laid a comforting hand on his arm. He clutched at it as though he were drowning and looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. “How much longer?” he croaked. “How long until we can leave this wretched boat?”

“Not long now,” I assured him, wrapping an arm around his bony shoulders. “Not long at all.”


	3. Algiers

The way they look at me, these Algerians. They treat our poor sailors like slaves, but I, I am something else. I am a prize to them, something as valuable as a chest full of gold and jewels. This concerns me. No good can come from such looks. I watch carefully as the pirates who captured us confer with the Algerian leader, a thin, greasy looking man in a turban, armed with a long scimitar. I cannot make out what is being said, not could I understand their language even if I could hear the words, but the glances that dart in my direction tell enough of a story. Plans are being made, plans that concern me, and until I know what they are there is nothing I can do about them.


	4. Seraglio

Seraglio. Deep down, I think I knew that that was my intended fate. Strange to think about – I’ve never bothered overmuch with protecting my own honor. Italian men are hot blooded, but a single look from me can quiet even the rowdiest of them. These Algerians are a different breed. They see women as prizes to collect, like racehorses or trophies. The thought of it repulses me. 

One thing is certain: this Mustafa will get more than he bargained for. When I give my body to a man, it will be of my own free will. And I will never, ever, be one of many women.


	5. Infidelity

Betrayed. After so many months of worrying, so harrowing and disastrous a journey, I find that I have been discarded, forgotten by my lover in favor of a scantily-clad harem trollop. The way she clung to his arm, the thin silk of her costume barely covering her – oh, it makes me want to vomit. Is that truly what men find attractive? And what of the promises Lindoro gave me? Were those lies? Did he ever love me, or was I just the best that was available? When he called me beautiful, was that a lie as well?

Suppose I were to try flaunting myself like that harem girl, and seduce him that way? But how could I possibly compete with the sort of slavish devotion the women here exhibit? I am Italian, and proud of it. I am not a dancing girl, nor an exotic concubine. In my heart, I can see why he might find her attractive. Perhaps my frank tongue and quick wit drove him away as not gentle or feminine enough? Men are such strange beasts.

What is left for me, then? I am still in the power of the Bey, whom I am determined shall never touch me. Plainly I must find a means of escape, a way to leave this dreadful episode behind. I will come up with a plan. Of that I am certain. Unlike my heart, my mind has never failed me.


	6. The Wife of the Bey

That poor woman. That poor, sweet thing. I cannot help but despise a country that allows a husband to cast aside a loving wife in such a manner. Despite her scandalous dress, she is a meek creature, completely cowed by her boorish Lord. This afternoon she came to me and timidly informed me that the Bey wished to meet with me alone. This I already know, of course, but to hear a wife deliver such a request shocked me to the core. She as well as invited me to become her husband’s mistress. I could see how it pained her to speak the words, saw her helpless shame, and my heart ached for her. Clearly she loves her husband as much as ever. I have resolved to help her. After all the suffering Mustafa has put her through (not to mention the headache he’s caused me), I’m not about to let him get away with his scheming. By the time I’m through with him, Mustafa will be begging his wife to take him back. And with luck, his wife will see how men can be tamed to a woman’s will.


	7. Kaimakan

Taddeo has gone and become Algerian. Grand Kaimakan, or some such nonsense. That idiot. Anyone with eyes can see that his only goal is to save his own skin. I’ve half a mind to leave without him when Lindoro and I escape.

His stupidity has spawned a new idea, though. If he is fool enough to fall for false honors and promotions, perhaps he is not the only one…


	8. Forever After

We’re away! After so many trials and tribulations, our ship has sailed. The winds themselves are on our side, though to be honest I think everyone aboard would gladly have taken up an oar and rowed our way home, just to escape that awful place. 

But none of that matters any longer. I am free, and Lindoro with me. I cannot seem to tear myself away from him, nor he from me. We wander about on the deck as he tells me of his adventures in Algeria and at sea. When we’re sure the sailors aren’t watching, we sneak kisses and embraces, but never anything more. After my experiences in the court of the Bey, I was ready to give myself over to Lindoro immediately, but he insisted that he wanted marriage first. He says that he saw too many unmarried women treated cruelly by their Algerian men to want any part of that. I’m humoring him, but the moment we get back to Livorno we are going straight to the dressmakers for a wedding dress. After all, a girl can’t wait forever!


End file.
